


Seldom All They Seem

by abovetheruins



Category: American Idol RPF, Maleficent (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Community: disneycookleta, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 05:58:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3925450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abovetheruins/pseuds/abovetheruins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His father expects him to court and wed the beautiful Princess Aurora. Prince David’s not entirely sure how to tell him he’s fallen in love with a raven instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seldom All They Seem

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the second round of disneycookleta. The film I chose was Maleficent. If you haven’t seen the film, hopefully you have a passing knowledge of who Prince Philip and Diaval is! Also, I switch between past and present tense throughout; hopefully it’s not too confusing! Title from 'Once Upon a Dream.'

When his father first sent him to King Stefan’s castle, Prince David knew what was expected of him.  
  
He’d heard the stories, of course. Everyone had. The princess Aurora had been cursed by the wicked fairy queen on the day of her christening, and in despair her father had sent the babe far, far away, in the hopes that he could save her from the Queen of the Moors and her evil spell. Every spinning wheel within the kingdom had been taken and burned in a further attempt to safeguard the princess, and nothing had been heard of her since. She was safe, some said, far away from the fairy queen’s clutches and guarded by powerful magic. The king would herald her home only after sixteen years had come and gone.  
  
Whispers of her return had spread throughout Alstead as the day of her sixteenth birthday approached, and David’s father, the great King Archuleta, had taken him aside and bade him travel to the kingdom of King Stefan (“In honor of this momentous occasion,” he’d said, a twinkle in his eye).  
  
David knew what his father expected of him – that he would meet and court (and ultimately wed) the beautiful Princess Aurora. David was well above marrying age with twenty-four summers to his name, and as the eldest son of the Archuleta family it would one day be his duty to rule his father’s kingdom. For that, as his father had taken to reminding him again and again, he would need a Queen.  
  
A union between the two kingdoms would not only be welcomed but expected; King Stefan had been their ally for years, and both kingdoms had benefited from the arrangement in terms of military might and trade. Joining the two families, King Archuleta believed, would be both advantageous and beneficial for everyone involved.  
  
David loved his family, loved his kingdom, and would do all in his power to ensure their continued health and happiness. His heart quailed at the thought of marriage, however, both to someone so young and to whom he didn’t even know. Aurora was a stranger to him; he knew only tales of her beauty and her plight, and that she had been sheltered from the rest of the world her entire life. He feared what would happen once they met, if they would be compatible, if he would truly be able to love her as a husband should love a wife.  
  
And there had been rumors spreading about King Stefan, rumors that chilled David to the bone – how the king had been slowly driven mad over the years after the encounter with the fairy queen, how he had grown more and more paranoid as his efforts to destroy both the Moors and its protector ended in failure, how he sequestered himself away in his castle, growing more delusional and desperate as the days went by, while he sent his soldiers out to hunt Maleficent down.  
  
King Archuleta had paid no heed to such tales, calling them little but “peasant gossip” and reiterating – time and time again – the importance of the union between the two kingdoms, and it was with a heavy heart that David had set out for King Stefan’s castle, resigned to carry out his father’s wishes.  
  
He had known from the beginning what was expected of him, had known what his father expected of him, just as he had known that Alstead expected him to return with news of his impending marriage to the young princess.  
  
  
  
He doesn’t think anyone expected  _this_.  
  
  
  
David stares at the collection of shiny bits and baubles laid out on the ground before him, his gaze trailing from the tiny gemstones, rough strips of leather with glittering pendants hanging from their lengths, various bands of silver and gold, and other various jewels that gleam in the pale sunlight, and then back to Princess Aurora.  
  
She’s biting her lip to withhold a smile, her blue eyes sparkling with mirth, and over her shoulder David sees a small, secretive smirk curling the lips of her guardian, the mysterious fairy queen.  
  
“Um,” he starts, and then stops, at a loss for words.  
  
It seems Princess Aurora can no longer contain her glee; she claps her palms together, a beautific smile spreading across her face. “Oh, isn’t it wonderful?” she gushes, glancing at her silent protector and then back to David, curls flying about her beaming face. “I never even imagined – !”  
  
“Wait, I don’t understand.” David glances helplessly at both the Princess and Maleficent. “What does this mean?”  
  
Aurora’s eyes  _shine_. Behind her, Maleficent hides a throaty chuckle behind her hand.  
  
“David,” the princess asks coyly, her hands settling on her hips as she regards him with a secretive smile, “have you never been courted before?”  
  
“C-courted?” David gawks at the collection of baubles on the ground between their feet, his eyes lingering on the lone black feather nestled gently amidst the shining jewels. “Princess, surely you jest! He’s not – Cook’s not – "  
  
“Oh, of  _course_  he is, David,” Aurora interrupts, shaking her head fondly. “I wouldn’t jest about something this important. Right, godmother?”  
  
Maleficent clears her throat, the glance she shoots both David and Aurora mired in amusement. “Of course,” she says seriously, inclining her head in a show of agreement.  
  
“Oh, this is such wonderful news!” Aurora pays no heed to David’s hasty protests as she carefully gathers the assortment of treasures in a spare handkerchief and slides her arm through his, striding forward and giving him no choice but to follow after her. “We must find Cook at once and celebrate such a well-suited match!”  
  
“Wait, Princess – !” David attempts to slide his arm free of the princess’ grasp, but to no avail. He hears the rustle of Maleficent’s great wings drifting along the ground as she follows after them, and he’s so desperate he glances back at the fairy queen, hoping she’ll notice his plight and put a stop to her ward’s gentle but insistent (and wrong!) ideas.  
  
The pale-faced protector of the Moors merely raises one finely arched brow, her gaze brimming with amusement, and David sighs, allowing himself to be led without further protests. As they pass through the glittering fairy lights and the assemblage of beautiful flora and fauna that fill the Moors, he finds himself marveling not at the beautiful landscape but at the ever-twisting, strange turns his life has taken ever since he first stepped foot into Aurora’s kingdom.  
  
He’s being courted by a  _raven_!  
  
  
  
His first meeting with Aurora had been… unconventional, to say the least. One moment he had been traversing the castle corridors in his search for King Stefan, the castle in an uproar around him, and the next he had been outside the lavish bedchamber of the princess herself, confronted by a trio of exuberant pixies and with no memory as to how he’d gotten there.  
  
The colorful pixies had barely given him a chance to explain, merely pulled him into the room and pushed him toward the princess, lying immobile upon her bed with her hands clasped and her eyes closed as if in sleep.  
  
“Why is she sleeping?” he’d asked, confused; her slumber seemed deeper than mere sleep, and he found it strange that the noise outside the chamber – the tread of heavy boots in the corridor and the clang of armor preceding each step – did not even make her stir.  
  
The pixie clad in pink answered him. “She’s trapped in an enchantment,” she’d said, her small hands wringing together in worry.  
  
The pixie in green had wasted little time in chiming in, “Do you want to kiss her?” to which David had merely stared, because how would that help in this situation at all?  
  
“I… I don’t even know her!” he’d stuttered out, the same protest he’d longed to tell his father (despite the fact that he knew King Archuleta would turn a deaf ear to it).  
  
“Haven’t you ever heard of love at first sight?” the blue fairy cried, exasperated, her tiny hands pushing ineffectually at David’s shoulder. “Kiss her!”  
  
The request (the command, really) had certainly thrown him off guard, but any further protests on his part had fallen upon deaf ears. The pixies continued to encourage him, seemingly oblivious to the chaos occurring just outside the chamber door, and, flustered by the tiny women’s exceedingly desperate pleas, David had leaned over the princess’ slumbering form and placed a gentle kiss upon her lips.  
  
It felt as though all occupants of the room had held their breath after the young prince pulled away, David included, but the princess’ demeanor had not changed, not even a twitch of her brow or a rustle of cloth disturbing the silence of her sleep.  
  
Seemingly enraged by his inability to rouse the princess, the pixies had pushed him from the room, the door slamming shut behind him, leaving David confused and alone in the corridor.  
  
His search for King Stefan had proven fruitless, until a commotion (a riotous mix of shouts and what could only be construed as a  _roar_ ) had driven him to the throne room. What he found there had stolen his breath – a great battle was raging between King Stefan’s soldiers and an enormous dragon, the likes of which David had never seen. Fire raged amid falling stone and debris, and in its midst David could see the King himself, clad in monstrous iron armor and circling the prone form of the fairy queen, the great horns curving from her head proof enough of her identity.  
  
In the chaos that followed – King Stefan readying his sword for the final blow against the fairy queen, the wings which appeared to fly of their own accord through the smoke and flame to meld themselves to Maleficent’s back, and the frantic battle that followed, King Stefan wrapping an iron chain around Maleficent’s ankle and being dragged though one of the many shattered windows – David hadn’t known where to turn at first, not until he’d seen Aurora – how she’d woken from her death sleep he didn’t know – pushing her way through the scattered soldiers toward the dragon.  
  
He’d readied his sword, making his way to her side without much thought; the soldiers had barely given him pause, seeming more interested in escaping the crumbling stone and fire raging in the throne room than stopping the prince.  
  
He’d tried to put himself between the princess and the dragon, its great head swiveling to meet him as he raised his sword against it, but Aurora had pushed past him, shouting, “It’s alright! He won’t hurt you!” and meeting the creature as though it were a longtime friend, her hands running along its dark snout as it curled its great feathery wings around them all, shielding them from the worst of the heat.  
  
“I – but Princess – “ David had started, completely at a loss, his sword hanging uselessly from his hand as he eyed the beast; he’d never seen a dragon, only heard tales of their ferocity and greed, and so knew not how to act in the face of one who seemed intent on protecting them from the flames rather than causing them harm.  
  
“Don’t be afraid,” Aurora had coaxed, as if David were the finicky beast rather than the dragon at her side. “Cook won’t harm you.”  
  
Cook – the dragon, David supposed, and what kind of name was that for such a creature? – had inclined its massive head as though in agreement, its fierce golden eyes gleaming as it regarded David.  
  
“Are you certain of that, Princess?” he’d asked. “Dragons are not known for their … “  
  
Aurora had laughed then, a musical sound in the midst of so much chaos and destruction, and the dragon had seemed to echo her, its lips drawn up in what David could only call a smile. “Oh, Cook’s not a dragon,” the princess had told him. “Well, not always. He’s a raven.”  
  
“A… raven?”  
  
Aurora had chirped, “And sometimes a man,” though at that point David had been far too distracted by the reemergence of the fairy queen, her face soot-blackened and grave, to pay much attention to that strange remark.  
  
  
  
The memories assail him as he meekly stands alongside Aurora, unable to make eye contact with the raven perching on the tree branch before them. It cocks its head at them inquiringly, and David nearly quails as Aurora lightly nudges him forward, pressing the handkerchief carrying his collection of baubles into his hand with a whispered, “Go on, David!”  
  
His face feels uncomfortably hot as he glances at the raven, its golden eyes – so different from every other creature David has ever come across – trained unerringly on him.  
  
“Um,” he begins, his palms clammy around the treasures cradled in his hands. “I – “  
  
“Godmother,” he hears Aurora whisper behind him. “Shouldn’t we leave them alone? This seems a conversation best held in private.”  
  
“I suppose,” Maleficent murmurs back, and before David can say another word she’s waved her hand. He sees a flash of golden light trail from her fingers; the raven flaps its wings – once, twice – and then it melds, seamlessly and all at once, into the form of a man dressed all in black.  
  
David barely notices the departure of the princess and the fairy queen (though he does catch Aurora’s excited, “We can celebrate later!” before they disappear), too busy staring with his heart in his throat at the man before him.  
  
Cook looks as he always does, auburn hair windswept as though even this form were capable of flight, the scruff that frames his mouth the same hue. The tangle of necklaces at his throat stands out in sharp relief against the paleness of his skin, revealed by the low cut of his tunic (and David abruptly turns his eyes away from the sight, flushing). His eyes, hazel now but which flash golden in each new form he takes, face David with an intensity which he’s not sure how to address.  
  
“I – “ he starts, his heart thudding as his eyes flit from Cook to the tiny hoard cupped in his palms.  
  
“Do you like them?” Cook asks, a smile curving his mouth which does little to set David’s nerves at ease; in fact, it only makes them worse, his stomach a riotous mix of butterflies and warmth.  
  
“O-oh, yes! I do.” And he does; the various jewels and baubles are beautiful, to be sure, and the sentiment behind such gifts is not lost on him. He just doesn’t understand how Aurora could be right, how Cook could –  
  
Cook moves to stand in front of him, fingers quick and sure as they reach for one of the strips of leather in David’s hands. David notices faintly that it’s just like the ones Cook wears, could have in fact been taken from the tangle around his own neck. The pendant hanging from the strand is small, a dark shade of purple, and catches the light in such a way that dazzles the eye. Amethyst, maybe, or some other stone David has never seen before.  
  
Cook hesitates before taking the feather, sleek and black and plucked from his own wing, and ties it to the strand. His smile never falters, but David catches the nervous twitch to it, the way Cook’s fingers pause, just a bit, when he lifts the necklace.  
  
“May I?” he asks, and it’s clear that he’s asking for more than just permission to slip the necklace around David’s neck; the gifts, the surety of Aurora’s words – Cook is  _courting_  him, in the way any proper raven should, and David is…  
  
David is not entirely against the idea. Um, at all.  
  
“You can,” he says, breathless, and, “Please.”  
  
Cook slips the necklace over his head with a reverence that takes David’s breath, and the coolness of the stone combines with the silky texture of the feather to rest softly in the hollow of his throat.  
  
  
  
In the weeks following the death of King Stefan and Aurora’s subsequent ascension to the throne of both her kingdom and the Moors, David had had little time to contemplate his purpose there.  
  
He’d sent missives to his father detailing the circumstances –  _Surely, Father_ , he had wrote,  _with two kingdoms to look after and set in order, Princess Aurora has little time to worry about suitors_  – and his father had responded in kind, telling David his place was at the princess’ side in this time of turmoil and to afford her any help that she might need ( _surely you understand that suitors will come knocking at the dear girl’s door far sooner rather than later, especially with her poor father’s untimely passing_.)  
  
His father had not been wrong, of course. Within a scant few days Aurora had been bombarded with missives from all of the neighboring kingdoms (and even some far beyond), and though many of them offered only their deepest condolences on the death of her father, there were indeed some that made mention of strong, able princes who happened to be of marriageable age.  
  
“It’s really quite silly,” Aurora had confided in him over a mound of such messages. “They’re not being very subtle about their intentions at all. Not that marriage isn’t in my future, of course! But a great deal of these Kings speak of their sons as though I need them to help me rule, when I already have such a companion at my side.”  
  
She had, of course, been speaking of the fairy Maleficent, who had returned once again to her position as protector of the Moors and – unwritten but true all the same – the protector of its Queen.  
  
Though he and Aurora had spent much time together in-between her various duties as a newfound ruler, traversing the castle grounds and even the vast, lush landscape of the mysterious Moors, more often than not she was with her guardian; the two of them could most often be found in the Moors together, interacting with all manner of fairy folk or – most often – spending a quiet moment together under the ancient oak trees.  
  
David enjoyed his time with the princess, of that there was no doubt. Though they were not of the same age, and Aurora’s upbringing had left her far more sheltered than he, they managed to strike up a camaraderie that David had not initially been expecting. They were both avid lovers of music, he had learned, and often they could be found singing together, lullabies and fairy tunes that Aurora had grown up upon and songs that David had been taught all of his life.  
  
They had grown close, their friendship blossoming more and more as the days went by, but still David had felt for Aurora no more than the peaceful sort of companionship that he often felt among friends back home. He had no desire to court her, nor kiss her, nor make her his wife.  
  
It had torn at him, knowing what his father and the kingdom of Alstead expected of him. He made no mention of his turbulent feelings to his sire, for he knew that any doubts he had would be swept away and thus ignored by his kind but insistent King.  
  
The only one he told of his plight was, surprisingly enough, Maleficent’s companion – the raven, Cook.  
  
Aurora had indeed been speaking the truth about the fearsome dragon – it was, in fact, merely a raven in disguise, who happened to also be a man once in a while, whenever Maleficent deigned to afford him such a form.  
  
When Aurora and her protector would disappear into the Moors, David would find himself spending time with the mysterious fellow. Cook had made for a surprisingly enjoyable companion; he was witty and kind, and seemed to adore music just as much as the Princess. Often David would lose himself in song (as he was wont to do in moments of stillness or, well, any time at all) only to find that Cook had joined him, the deeper tone of his voice providing a soothing (and, if David were honest with himself, exceptionally pleasing) backdrop to David’s own upper register.  
  
Cook was also, as David had been quick to find, a good listener, and his presence set David so at ease that the young prince found himself speaking of his true purpose there, why his father the king had sent him to find Aurora, and the worries that plagued him constantly – how he did not feel for the Princess in the way his father hoped, and how he doubted even that would sway his father’s favor toward absolving his hope of the match.  
  
“You know,” Cook had told him, leaning back against a tree and regarding David with eyes that, though pitiable of his plight, also held a hint of amusement. “We thought – well,  _I_  thought – that you would be the one to wake Aurora.”  
  
“Truly?” David had asked, recalling his disastrous attempt with a grimace.  
  
Cook’s laugh had rumbled through David despite the distance between them. He had found himself studying Cook’s face then, the way his eyes scrunched in amusement and the way his face lit up with humor. It was… a pleasing sight, to be sure.  
  
“Truly. A Princess in peril and a Prince of all people dropping in just in time to save her? It seemed too good to be true.”  
  
“But the curse called for true love’s kiss, did it not? I’d never even spoken to Aurora at that point!”  
  
“Forgive us our presumptuousness, Prince. We were desperate.”  
  
David had failed to offer up a response to that other than, “David. Um. You can call me David, if you like.”  
  
Cook’s answering smile had warmed his heart in a way which the Princess’ never had.  
  
  
  
Aurora and Maleficent find them hours later, David with his head resting in Cook’s lap, the other man’s fingers trailing through his hair. David would feel embarrassed about their position and the obvious state of his and Cook’s kiss-swollen lips if he weren’t still a little dazed from the, um, activity which had made them that way.  
  
“I see congratulations are in order,” Aurora chirps, beaming, and as David makes to move, “No, no, stay. We won’t be long. We just wanted to see how you two were getting along.” Maleficent scoffs quietly, her lips curled in amusement, and Aurora huffs. “ _I_  wanted to see, at any rate. And Godmother has a gift!”  
  
Cook’s fingers still in David’s hair. “Mistress?” he asks, quietly.  
  
Maleficent kneels at their side. Even with her height reduced she’s still a sight to behold, her horns curving sharp and wicked over her head and her great wings flared out behind her.  
  
She holds out her hand; in her palm sits a ring, the band bright and golden. Its color reminds David of Maleficent’s magic, the way it flares fierce and gold whenever she calls it forth. Cook takes it with reverence.  
  
“Wear it,” Maleficent says, “and move between forms at will.”  
  
It takes a moment for Cook to speak. When he does, the hoarseness of his voice attests to the gravity of the gift. “You have my thanks, Mistress.”  
  
“It is unneeded, old friend,” Maleficent returns, and with a flick of her wings and one last giddy wave from the Princess, they take their leave.  
  
David lifts his head from Cook’s lap, moves to press his fingers to the line of Cook’s jaw; Cook’s staring at the ring with something like amazement, and when he slides it onto his finger, the band gleaming in the dim light, his eyes are wet.  
  
“Mistress has done me a great kindness,” he says, low, and wraps his arms around David’s waist, tucking his chin into the hollow of David’s throat. His breath rustles the feather hanging from David’s neck. “As have you, David, in accepting me.”  
  
David laughs softly, curling his arms around Cook’s neck. “That was less for kindness’ sake and more for my own,” he says truthfully, and catches Cook’s laughter – a little shaky with emotion, but bright and true nonetheless – with his lips.  
  
  
  
Cook’s by his side when David pens the missive to his father; he offers half-jokingly to take it himself, and though David laughs at the thought, he would much rather not risk his father’s ire.  
  
 _Dearest Father_ , he writes.  _I hope this message finds you well. I have joyous news for the Kingdom of Alstead – I am engaged to be wed!_.  
  
This part is easy; David’s happiness is not feigned, and he knows that his joy must come through in the writing. He hopes his father will take note of that before passing whatever judgement he may.  
  
 _I admit I was at first doubtful of your wisdom in sending me here_ , he continues, because appealing to his father’s sense of pride is sure to put him in a pleasant mood.  _But your decision was sound. I am forever grateful to have found myself in the hospitality of the Princess Aurora and her honored friends._  
  
Now comes the hard part. David takes a deep breath before continuing, Cook’s hand on his shoulder and the surety of his presence enough to make way for the words which must be said.  
  
 _My betrothed is not whom you might have expected, Father..._


End file.
